Aspects
by tingj02
Summary: Quistis assumes aspects of other characters; what is she like? How does she cope? Critique appreciated; having never played FFVIII, characterization is difficult and gleaned from other (scarily) talented authors :)
1. ZELL: Hotdogs, Among other things

A/N: Hey all! This is a fic based on Quistis and her interactions with other characters in the game. Just small, everyday stories. more about Quistis taking on an aspect of their lives and her reactions. A character study, or so I hope. Or wish (. I have a feeling that the characterization of Zell and Quistis aren't up to scratch. Quistis is. too happy? And Zell?! When I was writing this, it was like kicking a puppy - a poor defenceless puppy. Poor Zell.  
  
Disclaimer: Squaresoft, yeah yeah yeah, blah blah blah. (who could forget?)  
  
ZELL: Hotdogs, among other things.  
  
Frowning faintly, Quistis raised her hand to her head. There was no heat; the skin there had the coolness of pale ivory. That in itself disturbed her. She wasn't sick, was she? Then why had she been distracted all through class?  
  
It wasn't her usual behaviour. While instructing, she was cool and professional, always present in every sense of her acute intelligence and spirit. Tried to do the best she could; even though, more often than not, the Trepies watched her rather than listening. Who made up more than 80% of the class. Thus it took every single bit of her concentration to hold their attention, leaving her exhausted in the process.  
  
But today. had been a poor effort, to say the least. Glancing at the clock every half hour, longing for a time when she could simply relax. Every five minutes would have been more appropriate. Even the Trepies had noticed.  
  
And it wasn't simply Seifer's presence in her class. To be honest, she couldn't have care less about that piece of rejected copraphragist data. If Squall, of all people, could let him back to Garden, she had no problems with that. It didn't mean she had to acknowledge his existence.  
  
It didn't help to know that he knew she'd been distracted all day. His smirk was infuriating. She longed to wipe out that grin off his face with a good hard punch. Where the sun did not shine.  
  
Frustrated, she eyed the clock again. It was moving far too slow for her tastes. She could already feel a rumble of hunger beginning. When it came, the amplitude and length was astounding.  
  
When the bell finally rang, she practically ran out of class.  
  
*  
  
Quistis sat, glancing occasionally to one side at IT. It wasn't that she was staring. of course not. She was just incredulous that she had never noticed before. She found it surprising. The perfection of each gently rounded side, marred by no way or manner the gentle ribs of flesh. The smooth, golden glow of its outer layer, a prelude to the smooth length within; a surprising burst of flavour from the cooling insides, a smooth invitation that begged to be savoured.  
  
Mentally, she smacked herself. It wasn't as if she never seen IT before. But somehow, she couldn't help her glances. Elegant, long hands stroked her plate in a fervour of indecision. She felt, oddly, disturbed. Disturbed that she should desire it so much. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. She wanted to move her lips over than smooth softness before the sudden burst of flavour. She wanted to linger over each and every bite, in quiet anticipation of the next. It was inexplicable. It was disquietening. Because. because it was so very much like. like Zell.  
  
Finally, she noticed the boy sitting on the table next to her. Engrossed, as always, within his plates of hotdogs. All too often, she'd laughed at him, eating so fast, almost choking. Or laughed at him for savouring each greasy mouthful. She could never understand. But for once, her heart echoed with some sort of fellow feeling.  
  
Fretting inwardly in indecision, she didn't decide but moved towards him with some sort of unconscious desire to the mound of. hotdogs?... next to him. Although she could not control her incredulousness, she forced herself to face the facts. She reasoned it out in her mind. She was, for some reason, desiring for hotdogs. Zell liked hotdogs. Therefore, he was the appropriate person to ask for an explanation. Resolve firmed, she strode over to him.  
  
"Hey Zell. Mind if I sit down?"  
  
He shook his head, cheeks bulging with hotdog. A few days ago, she would have been faintly disgusted and morbidly fascinated at the smear of grease about his mouth, the horrible sounds he made while scarfing down two or three hotdogs at the same time. But now. the desire was barely in leash. Unaccountably, she thought of Squall and Rinoa.  
  
Zell finally finished his mouthful. Quistis raised a hand to get his attention. He looked at her enquiringly. " 'Sup, Quis?"  
  
Nervously, she twisted her fingers. This was going to sound incredibly. stupid. "I. Zell, I don't understand. Why do you like hotdogs so much?"  
  
For an instant, she saw something flicker over his face, so quickly she couldn't catch it. His answer distracted her further. "What d'you think, Quis? I'm just obsessed, is all." He laughed, and the sound was unusually high and unnatural. "Was that it? I'm afraid I'll have to go back to eating now."  
  
Was that the answer? That she was obsessed? She shook her head. "I don't think so," she murmured to herself.  
  
Zell had already turned eyes back to her. If she concentrated hard, she could almost hear him murmuring:  
  
"Don't believe me? Well." He paused and regarded her with serious eyes. "Alright then. You want to really know the reason? Then answer me this question. Why've you never asked before?"  
  
Quistis felt suddenly self conscious. "Uh."  
  
His eyes hardened a little. "I'll tell you why. Because, each and every day, you assume. Just an obsession. A silly, little obsession that Zell has, just because he's a stupid sort of guy. Not just you, all the others, the whole Garden looks at me as if I'm some sort of nutcase. You don't even bother to hide the private looks of disgust. You especially, Quistis. And not once, not once, do you ever ask the reason." He paused for a moment. "So that begs the question; why?"  
  
She was backed into a corner, with no way out. "I'm sorry, Zell. I didn't know you felt so strongly about it."  
  
Zell smiled a little, and the traces of anger slipped away. Once again, she saw the young man from long ago; innocent and carefree. "I'm not asking for apologies, Quis. But just to let you know; it's OK."  
  
She felt relieved. "But Zell, I'm asking now. Why?"  
  
"Why do you want to know?"  
  
She hesitated a little, but spilled out the story.  
  
When she looked up, he was munching, considering her question. "Look," he said finally, waving his hotdog around. "I can't answer for you, but I can answer for myself. This - " He gestured to the hotdogs. "They're untouched. It's something small, ordinary. I mean, who cares about a hotdog? But, if you learn to appreciate the small things in life. you can cope with the not so nice things."  
  
Realization dawned. She took a deep breath, let it out, breathed again. "Like me."  
  
He nodded a little. "Only sometimes. And other people too. Among other things."  
  
"So for me." she whispered. She never said it aloud. But the names spun in a growing longing.  
  
"Squall and Rinoa," Zell confirmed, nodding. He saw her amazed look and smiled wryly. "Not all of us are blind, you know. You were always a perfectionist. So you sought perfection in the small things, to shield your pain, to cope with that idea."  
  
"Among - "  
  
"Other things." They completed the sentence together. Her mind spun with clarity. She realized with a pang that the longing for perfection. with Squall. was still in existence. And could never be. She saw just how it was between him and Rinoa. But she also realized, with a kind of familiar comfort, that there were always the small things. And after that, she would begin to see the sunrise again. The sheer beauty of a world wrapped in promise. With that, she felt a longing for those small things so strongly that for a moment, words could not speak.  
  
Then something hit her. "Zell," she said with uncharacteristic hesitance, feeling as if she'd interrupted him enough. "Zell, why is it that you still eat hotdogs so much? I would've thought, since its been three years. that you would be OK by then. From what other things there might be."  
  
Zell grinned sheepishly. "Heh. I like hotdogs."  
  
Her laugh astounded everyone there, including herself. It'd been a long time since she'd laughed like that. Zell just smiled, watching her. I'm glad I could help you, sis.  
  
"Don't suppose I could have one of your hotdogs?" she asked after she'd wiped the tears and laughter away.  
  
"Go for it."  
  
They sat there, two good friends munching hotdogs, appreciating the small things in life to cope with those that just weren't as nice. Among other things. 


	2. SEIFER: Betrayer

A/N: Cliché, I know, but what aspect of Seifer do you really think Quistis would assume? It's blindingly obvious and very tempting. Quistis, anything but loyal? Never! Again, difficulties with characterization – personally, Quistis is far too emotional. But then, wouldn't you be?

Think I'm going to expand this idea out a bit. I likes it very much. 

Disclaimer: Seifer is the property of... ME! He's MINE! *crouching in a stance reminiscent of a certain ring loving hobbit* My- my preciousssssssssssssssssss…

SEIFER: Betrayer

PART I: Quistis

Darkness. Darkness was all she could see, she could feel. Twisting her head, it felt as if it wrapped around her in a smothering blanket, wet and dripping in silt and mud. It made her senses cold and numbed. She moved her fingers and toes, surprised she could still feel them. Cold of this magnitude… She guessed she should feel lucky. 

Patiently assessing, her mind thought in incessant circles. She guessed she was – somewhere. Taking note of the dank surroundings and the sound of dripping water, a place she'd never seen before – though it did seem vaguely familiar. More importantly, she didn't know why. So her, in a place she didn't know, without the slightest inkling why. Not good odds. She stiffened at the sound of a splash – _close_ – but with her limited senses she could detect no one. 

Time passed. She'd called out, but no-one answered.

She knew, without a doubt, that she would die within two hours in this breathtaking cold.

The splash sounded closer now, and suddenly, she wasn't breathing at all.

_Something wet was crawling down her back._

She resisted the urge to shudder. Only one thing inhabited, could survive in these conditions, and it was all that she could do not to imagine the tiny fangs scraping the delicate skin of her back. Sleek, slender and utterly beautiful, it hid a deadly poison in it's dangerous grace and sinuous curves. She waited, analyzing, thinking, and the moment it was in the right position, she swept off the thing into the far darkness. 

Or tried to.

_She could not move_.

She lifted an arm experimentally and found that she could not. _Calm, Quistis_. Panicking, she moved her arms wildly, could feel the jerk and twist of each muscle… but _she could not move_. This had to be a joke. Her head could still move but her body was numb and lifeless; like a puppet, she was jerked and moved. _This had to be a joke_. She could hear a faint drumming, the beat of a war drum, and it came louder and louder; paralyzed in the knowledge of her own incapacitance, she could only lie waiting, silently holding in the screams until her lips were red with blood… until she realized it was her own heart. _A joke. _

Comforted, she tried to walk, and realized that she could not. _A joke_. She tried to move, and could not. _ A joke_. She tried to think… and that was met with a gasping pain. _It's a joke. All a prank. Right?_

IT had coiled around her neck. IT was moving; sliding towards her front, it coiled around her chest and remained, basking in the rare heat. She could feel its tongue flickering against her right nipple.

She ignored it, steely minded in determination. She called, calm in voice, trying not to disturb the scaled bundle. It was nestled against her chest in gross parody of a mother and her child.

"Squall, Zell, Irvine. This is not funny. Come on guys, let me out now?"

She tried to laugh, but could not. _ Please?_

"Rinoa, if it's you. Or Selphie. Even Seifer. Come on, the joke's over, let me out?"

Pain wracked her head and she coughed, smelling the distinctive smell of blood, tasting it. She tried to smile, but could not. _Please!_

"Anyone. Students, if you've put me here, I'm not happy about this at all. Headmaster, Matron, is this your idea of a joke? Xu. _. _. Anyone." 

_My God._

Maniacal laughter echoed and inwardly, she shuddered. The pitch and magnitude was enough to make her skin creep. She felt the twisting bundle shift, and instinctively she relaxed the tension that tautened her. She shut her mouth with a click.

Shuddering silence. 

_If I'm here… where are the others? My friends? Matron? I'd just gone to bed, and I woke up. Here. _

It was the first time she'd felt so small and alone. 

_The last thing I remember is… coffee. I'd finished with classes – thank God – and I'd just said night to the rest of the gang. _

Freezing, cold. The rush of air made her aware of her own unclothed state.

_And I'd seen Seifer fail. I saw Squall and Rinoa dance. I saw… eyes?_

Her thoughts disrupted by a growing brightness. Before she was blinded, she saw the figure, a dark nimbus outlined in a halo of white light. The pain subsided a little, and she smiled shakily; she dared not to laugh. The idea of fangs kept her from that. Still, try as she might, the familiarity of the dark hair and blue grey eyes sent her shuddering in relief. "Squall? You've come – "

A slap sent her flinging across the lengths of her restraints. It sent the thing flying, but she didn't notice enough to shudder with even a semblance of relief. She could only note absently that the slap hurt far more than it should have. His voice was low with anger and something else. "How _dare_ you call me that?"

Dazed, she could only blink at him. She didn't know why her eyes were watering. She tried to control her voice but it came out shaky anyway. "S-Squall… I love you." It was pathetic, she knew it. But it was the only defence she had against him.

His eyes were dark with anger and something else. He laughed. "Is that so? Quistis." He spat her name. "Let me express my undying love to you, Quistis, even though you tried to kill Rinoa. When you tried to seduce Seifer. You tried to control him! When you tried to kill all of us!"

Faintly. "But I didn't… Squall…"

Another slap hit her. "Don't. Call. Me. That."

She was very dimly away that she was crying. Of some pain. What pain?

He'd calmed down somewhat. "You have no right. None whatsoever. You betrayed us, Quistis! Maybe I didn't love you in that way, but we were friends!"

"But… Squ – " She almost made the mistake again, dimly saw him raise his hand, dimly felt the tears on her cheeks. "I never did that. It must have been someone else. I could never do that."

Squall eyed her incredulously. She could see the disbelief on his face. "Suuuuuure. You know, deep in your deluded mind – " he tapped her forehead "You're one sick kitty. I think you really do believe it. But you –" pushing her back with one finger " – are wrong." 

"I saw you. I fought against you, Quistis. Don't ever call me a liar. Don't ever speak to me again because - " he leaned down very close. " – you disgust me. I came to see if you could at least apologize before the trial. But you can't. Can't even admit it!" At this point his voice had rose to shouting level. 

She knew what that something was. Disgust.

"Quistis. Your trial is tomorrow, 1000 hours. If you remember." He smirked. "You will be escorted to your room. There, you will stay until the trial. Rest assured, you will be given what you deserve." 

He walked away to the door. She watched him, eyes loving every line. _Squall… I-I… didn't do it. Did I. I would never betray you, especially you. Please say no…_

He spun around. His face was lined with a heavy relish and cruelty. "By the way, Zell, Irvine, Selph and Rin send a message." He watched her eyes light up. 

"To quote: 39 muscles to frown, but only two to raise your middle finger." He coolly did so. "Fuck you."

The door closed quietly with a click and an indiscriminate electronic sound. She knew that she could never get out, that the door was sealed against her fingerprints, that surveillance equipment watched her disinterestedly… and that she did not care. Her weeping was enough. Everything was confirmation.

_Betrayer._

"Squall…" she whispered amongst the tears.


	3. Betrayer :: interludes

A/N: This occurs during Quistis' unconciousness episode. Some different POV (might add more later). Guess who they are! Plus, find out Quistis' mystery... *oooooooh...* I may add more as I see fit; this story is not as smooth as I would like and adjustments to the many contradictions will be added!! Oh yeah, I edited the first part because Quistis just becomes hysterical too easily...

Disclaimer: Na, na, nah, you can't catch me, Squaresoft... *runs around hefting the full cast of FF8* (yeah, I'm strong!)

Also, contrary to many rumours, no Quistis' were harmed, physically, mentally or emotionally through the production of this story. Really!

INTERLUDES

She did not feel rough arms take her away, iron clad maiden, empty and hollow as rust. She relished the nightmares. A fresh relief from the pain, instinctively, she buried herself in them. 

_Edea. Ultimecia. Perfect white teeth, gleaming in smile. Malicious. Her hand reaches, and shudder away. Her hand grips tight! "Worthless child… did you really believe you could run from me? My protector… the way you never could be for Squall. For Zell. Irvine. Selphie. Even Seifer." A chuckle. "Worthless… imperfect… flawed child."_

_Her words follow me, mocking me, as I run… "Marred… blemished… disfigured, stained, worthless."_

_Insiduous. "Don't you want to know how your father died? Don't you want to know whose hand held the knife?" _

_Not a sound do I make. I need control. Breathing. Hold something._

_There's nothing to hold._

_Still, her words reach me. Liar, my voice whispers. Liar, murderer, sadist, killer. Not hers. Not hers, but mine._

_She's reached me, curled in this corner. Her lips curl delightfully as she whispers. _

_Screaming. Screaming. "SHUT UP! Shut up! Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup…"_

_Words aren't enough, tears aren't enough, and my mind slips into cold. But not before I hear those damning words._

_"And that's why, my dear, you will never be good enough for anything but me."_

Flickers of memories, of a life she did not lead. 

*

_She awoke. Silent, emptyroom, its white walls seemed to stretch into infinity. She gazed curiously around, wondering for the purpose for which she was there. There seemed to be none. Bare white walls and a small dot of black._

_ Inquisitive, she ventured forward. A small step brought her in close proximity. A bed._

_Not just a bed. A woman lay in the bed, sheets wrapped lovingly around her throat, caressing the smooth, white form. Her eyes were closed, blank windows. Her dead lips unmoving. _

_Gently, she moved closer, intending to wish the corpse some peace. Her hair was a dull, faded gold, burnished and beautiful in death as it must have been in life. Her windpipe was crushed. Livid bruises stained her elegant neck purple. Somehow, Quistis had a feeling she knew her from somewhere._

_Frowning in sympathy, she touched the livid neck._

_The eyes shot wide open, and she knew._

_That deadly, dangerous blue._

_Familiar screams of hatred. _

_'God, it's you…' Slow whispers. 'Are you glad? I bet you are. Cause of all this mess.'. She took a deep breath, sighing through a broken throat. 'You filthy, filthy person. Did you really think I wouldn't come back?'_

_Take a step back._

_'Murderer. You filthy murderer.' Softly spoken, the words had the impact of a whiplash._

_Two steps. Soft denials. 'No. No.'_

_'You killed him!'_

_'No…'_

_'Yes.' There was grim justice in the tone, a kind of rigid exaltation ringing in tune with her own sobs. 'No wonder you tried to kill your friends. You'd find it easy.'_

_'No!'_

_'Yes! You killed him and took him from me. And because of that, I hate you. Do you understand?' She suddenly stood. Her eyes blazed blue/purple. 'You poor, poor minsunderstood child. Did you think you could escape your past? Did you think you could be anything but flawed… blemished… stained…?' Laughter. 'No, my child. Never.'_

_'NO!'_

_The withered lips smiled, even as the words dropped snarling to the pit. Venomous, cruel words. 'I hate you!'_

_She was sobbing now, broken. The words kept coming from her._

_'I hate you… I hate you. I hate you!' _

_She… it… was fiddling with a sheet. She held it up. A perfect loop. A noose._

_She died, whispering words of hate. How she could never love a daughter who was stained with the blood of her father. Triumph staining the words. Knowing they would have hurt her. After all, she was her mother._

_Thus, Quistis Trepe killed her mother twice in one lifetime. _

_*_

_Pretty little golden child. She entered the new house, feeling scared and a little bit lost and lonely. A lovely woman swooped down on her, hugging her, and she felt smothered. Her forgetting scars were rubbed up and beginning to hurt. _

_She tried not to remember, but the woman brought it all back. The other child too, the blonde one. Too curious by far. Hours shaping perfection in the form of a sandcastle destroyed. Unable to fit into her perfect family that she was forming with the children. And the dark haired one? Somehow, she reminded him of herself, and her quest for perfection. He did not disturb her thoughts. He'd often come to stare at the sea himself._

_Hours spent staring at the sea, imagining herself clean and wondering if she could ever be… if that much water could wash away her sins. She'd loved to swim. _

_Hours spent at the sea, trying to forget that spot she could never wash away._

_Misplaced pride at her achievements. Only the rarest smile would come if she was especially pleased with the perfection she had wrought. 'See, mother? What I can do? I can be perfect. I can be loved.'_

_Forgetting, she made a wall around herself in her unconscious quest for cleanliness and perfection. Few entered, but few left. She was lonely… but perfect. What else? _

*

Pretty little golden child. She remembered her, small and solemn, always grave and seldom smiling. She was… torn, somehow, and broken inside. She'd fed herself with books and excelled, but to what purpose? 

If she'd asked, perhaps she would've answered. 

Quistis was… something else. Had always been. Behind that wall of perfection, there was something that she'd always kept hidden. Cantankerous sore that it was, it festered and grew to something else.

It was an instinctive feeling that sprang from her own intuition as well as her own experience with Ultimecia. Thick residues of dreams still plagued her. Remembering the straightness of the spine, the iciness of the blue eyes, the sudden affront and the tears. Quistis never cried. 

She/Ultimecia had known, and played on it. And Quistis had fallen.

Tides of guilt swept her, and she would've cried if she could've. Her heart's mind fixed on the image of that lonely little girl, staring to the sea. As if she was seeking something. 

*

"Quistis…" he said quietly, observing the tear stained face, dirty clothes, body stained with a foul mixture of excretion and blood. Looking at her, he felt a mixture of grief and contempt. He'd respected her, once… grudgingly. It satisfied his ego to know that in the end, he was right, than in the end, he'd turned out better than her. But the things that she had done were so… unlike her. He couldn't have believed it. Even when she'd stood in front of him, swinging _Save the Queen_ mockingly, flinging his contemptuous words right back into his face. Only now, standing in front of her. 

Her eyes fluttered, lifted. The same startling shade of blue, the intensity of the glare a vast contrast to the pale blandness of her own face. She said nothing, just let her eyes linger on his face. It seemed that there was nothing to say.

"Instructor," he said mockingly, turning and walking away.

If he'd stayed, he would've seen the tears that flooded her eyes before he left. Before unconciousness hit her like a brick between the eyes and forced the eyes closed and stopped the words that wanted to come out.

As it was, he thought he'd seen _something_. He shook his head mentally, remembering. _Nah. Quistis never cries_.

Anyway, he didn't like to think of what those tears could mean.


End file.
